Two figures fell rapidly through a narrow space, maneuvering around numerous obstacles, creating distortions in the air by sheer speed and momentum.
They'd moved, twisted, and turned. In this mechanical pit of darkness and steel, the criminal duo was kings, monarchs. Masters of the art and the most skilled of the skilled.
Both of them soon noticed the reflective silver ground. It's sight enlarged by the minute, and the darkness from distance faded.
Jargon sped, diving forth in a blue.
A smirk flashed on his face, excitement rising in his heart. He glimpsed back in mockery, roaring out slurs, daring for Neth to respond.
However, upon seeing his partner's uncaring expression, an almost insulting one even, he became enraged.
Jargon reacted by whispering the words 'Weakling' in a way that Neth could hear.
Neth's expression contorted, scowling. He glared at Jargon, eyes like daggers.
